


Fireworks

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Anal Fingering, Ass Play, Boys Kissing, Carnival, Coming In Pants, Cotton Candy (Food), Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Ferris Wheels, Fingerfucking, Fireworks, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Groping, Hand Jobs, Holding Hands, Horny, Inappropriate Erections, Kissing, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, MarKian, Public Hand Jobs, Smut, Snogging, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kian takes Mark to a local funfair. Mark is a horny bastard who won't take no for answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

“I want you to sit on my face.”

“Mark!” Kian looked up in startled shock, his hand closing tighter on the ball he'd been about to toss. Mark just winked at him, though, and gestured at the bottles lined up in the back of the stall, under a huge swinging display of plush toys.

He'd been dreadful all day. In a mood where everything was innuendo, and every touch was a grope. He got like this every few months, just started being insatiable in a way that was totally enthusiastic and adorable, like he was regressing to some ridiculous teenage state that had forgotten that they'd been together for over a decade and could do this crap at home.

They'd gotten back in from Dubai a few days before, had gotten settled back into domesticity again after the whirlwind of the tour. They'd spent a whole day sorting stuff out, restocking groceries and making the place feel like home again instead of an empty shell that got dusted twice a week by the maid. Then another day laying around, snuggling on the couch and enjoying the wonderful simplicity of not having to be anywhere. Not for another couple of months, anyway, until they were off to Africa and Asia for the last leg of the Gravity tour.

And then Mark had seen fireworks in the distance the night before, and discovered there was a funfair in town for the weekend.

So here they bloody were. Kian trying to win a giant stuffed Kermit the Frog while Mark whispered really filthy things in his ear.

“You're distracting me.” The glower didn't seem to change things. Mark just grinned, and patted him on the arse. Then grabbed his arse. “That's not helping.”

“It's helping me.”

“I'm sure it is.” Kian sighed, trying to line up his shot.

“Kian?”

“Mmm...?”

A hot breath brushed his ear while he drew his arm back.

“How many times do you think I could make you come?”

“Jesus Christ.” Kian groaned as the ball hit the back of the net and dropped uselessly to the ground. The man running the tent picked it up, shrugged at them like he was really sorry for taking their money, and handed them a crazy straw as a consolation prize. Mark took it, looking delighted.

“Crazy straw!” He held it up like it was a trophy.

“I was trying to win you a Kermit!”

“Where the hell would we put that? It's huge.” Mark shrugged. “This I can use.”

“For what?”

“Do... you need me to explain how a straw works?” Mark raised an eyebrow, and Kian sighed, putting a hand over his face.

“I hate you.”

“No you don't.” Mark grinned, scooping up the bucket of candy floss they'd somehow manage to acquire along the way. It was almost half empty, which probably explained why Kian felt a bit sick. “You looooooove me.”

“Do I?” Kian nudged him, felt an arm come around his waist in reply. “News to me.”

“I could remind you.” The hand was drifting lower, curling back around to his bum again. “I really want to fuck you.”

“I hadn't noticed.” Kian snorted, looking up at teasing blue eyes. “Let's go home, then.”

“But I haven't seen everything yet.”

“You got a crazy straw.”

“I know.” Mark held it up again. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” Kian let his own arm come around Mark's waist, hugging him briefly while they walked, fingers gently stroking the taller lad's side. “What's got into you?”  
  
“Dunno. Sugar. Horny.” Mark shrugged. “Want to go have sex on the ghost train?”

“I really don't.” Kian responded. “I'll go on it with you, though.”

“No.” Mark looked around. “Dodgem cars?”

“No thanks, my neck's all messed up from the other night.” When Mark had yanked legs over his shoulders and fair fucked him into the mattress, his whole body held up on a slope, head and shoulders braced on the bed. It had been delicious, until he'd come down and realised his neck was killing him.

Oh fuck, he was getting old, wasn't he?

“Aw... baby.” The hand drifted from his bum and started to knead the back of his neck, thumb digging in. “There?”

“Little to the left...” Kian closed his eyes, keeping a hand on Mark so he'd at least know where he was walking. “Oh... right there.” He sighed, turning his head slightly and feeling fingers sink into the tense muscle. “Thanks.”  
  
“Of course.” The fingers dug in a little harder. “You want me to jerk you off behind the cake stall?”  
  
“Mark, there's little kids here.” Kian opened his eyes just so he could glare. “Not okay."

“They can't hear.” He retorted, as though that made up for it. “Come on. Let's go do something stupid.”

“Marky...” Kian sighed. He let go of the younger boy's waist, took his hand. Fingers squeezed, as familiar and perfect as they'd always been. “One more ride, okay? Then we go home, and you can do whatever you like.”

“But I want to stay for the fireworks.”

“Then we can stay for the fireworks.” Kian shrugged. “It just means you're not getting off for another hour.” The look on Mark's face was priceless, like a bitter war was raging. “You see them every night, anyway. Pyrotechnics and that.”

“Yeah, but these are _fireworks_.” Mark said, as though the distinction was obvious. “And I'm usually thinking too hard about remembering the lyrics or not tripping over myself to really notice them. Can we go on the Ferris Wheel?”

“Yes we can.” Kian laughed, tugging him over to the ticket booth. Less than a minute later they were standing in the queue, between a woman with two excited children in front and an elderly couple behind. Good. A buffer zone. Surely Mark wouldn't try anything with two five-year-olds right...

“Fucking love your arse...” Was hissed in his ear while he squeaked in surprise, earning a confused look from the mother in front of them. “Want to bend you over my knee and spank it red.”

“Mark!” He gasped, glancing back over his shoulder. “No. Bad!”

“You are. That's why I need to spank you.” There was a soft laugh, then, the sort of laugh that Kian usually only heard when he was a trembling, whimpering mess on the bed, Mark licking in really inappropriate places. He gulped, closing his eyes when fingers slid along his waistband. “Then I can eat you out. Make it feel all better.”

“Jesus...” Kian bit his lip, just knowing his face was going bright red. “Stop.”

“Okay.” Mark shrugged. Then he was being nudged forward and realised they were at the front, being ushered into a carriage. He slid in, felt an arm come around his shoulders while the bar came down in front. Then they were moving, shifting up to a few metres above the ground while the next lot of people got in behind them. Kian looked around, feeling the carriage swing slightly. “Hey, guess what?”

“You're horny?”

“No. I mean yes. But no.” Mark chuckled. “I wrote a new song.”

“Hey, brilliant!” Kian grinned, slipping a hand into his. “What is it? Will I like it?”

“No, you'll bloody hate it. I wrote a terrible song just so you wouldn't like it.” Mark rolled his eyes, but squeezed his hand anyway. “I don't know. I'm thinking of putting it forward for the Greatest Hits, maybe. Last album, at least get one on there that's actually mine. Ours. You know what I mean.” He shrugged. Kian leaned over, kissing his cheek.

“You nervous about the end?”

“I honestly don't know.” Mark shrugged. “I keep thinking I'm sad, but then I think no, I wouldn't want to keep doing it. It's being sad for something you're glad you get to miss, if you know what I mean?”

“Yeah.” Kian nodded. They'd had this conversation a thousand times. Would they. Could they. Should they. And the answer kept coming to yes. When the stress was tugging at their faces and they couldn't be bothered to get up and go any more. Tell the same thirteen year old stories again and again, and only be really happy a few hours a time in front of a screaming wall of people. He leaned in, laying his head on Mark's shoulder. “It doesn't feel like ending, though. The best thing about it was always you.”

“Ditto.” Lips brushed his hair. “Thinking about going to America for a bit. Getting my head clear, talking to some songwriters. You want to come?”

Kian looked up. “I... got an offer. To be on a new Irish version of The Voice.” He saw Mark's face twist in surprise. “It's not anything yet, they offered it to loads of people, but...” He bit his lip. “Yeah. I don't know. I'm thinking about putting my name in.”

“Shit.” Mark breathed. The hand in his tightened. “Congratulations, I guess. Wow.” He shuffled a little closer. “I guess you're staying here, then.”

“If I get it.” Kian pointed out. He didn't know why he hadn't said anything to Mark yet. He supposed it hadn't felt like a real thing, had just felt abstract, like the hundreds of other offers they'd all gotten and declined over the years, like Nicky's presenting gigs. It was always that thing they'd do later. Now later was right upon them, and... “It's only for a few months, I think. January to April sort of thing.”

“That's...” Mark paused. “That's while we're still Westlife. We'll be on tour.”

“Yeah, I was looking into it. They'll really only need me for auditions early on, and then full time for April, for the live shows and that. Maybe we can work around it, or...” He shook his head, looking away from the considering gaze he was getting. They were moving again, about halfway up the wheel. “I don't know. I'd hate to say no. This could be... like if it goes well...”

“It's a great opportunity.” Mark said quietly. “You should...” A thumb stroked the back of his hand. Take it. You should. You'd be really good at it.”

“Not if it's going to mess you about.” Kian looked back, caught a hesitant blue gaze. Mark leaned in, then, and kissed him. Kian smiled, feeling full lips curve to his, press down. Fingers curled into his hair, Mark's mouth tilting him deeper into it. “Mmm...” He said when Mark pulled away, both of them licking his lips. “What was that for?”

“For being a self-sacrificing idiot.” Mark laughed, pecking his lips again. “Do what's right for you. I'll still love you.”

“Good.” Kian grinned. “Go to America, though. I'll be here when you get back. And it means we can stay up in Sligo all the time and I'll just pop down for filming. Or if it's easier for you, we can split time with the London place while you record.”

“We'll figure it out.” An arm settled back around his shoulders. “It's so odd, having to make decisions like this. I'm just used to being shunted on a plane and then driven to a venue. It's weird.”

“Good weird?”

“I don't know yet.” Fingers played with his collar, brushing his neck. “It's sort of nice to be scared again.”

“I know what you mean.” Kian snorted. “Though with you I'm always bloody terrified.” He sighed, raising his head to press a kiss to Mark's cheek. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Mark replied. They were almost at the top now, swinging slightly back and forth as people got on at the bottom. “It's pretty up here.”

“It is.” A nose nuzzled his ear. It was, the lights of the other rides and stalls blinking brightly beneath them, almost eclipsing the light of the stars, though he could see the moon just over the trees, the summer air cool and full of the smell of chips and hotdogs. “I love you. Even when you are being a horny deutz."

“And I love you even when you're being a tease.”

“I'm not being a tease.” Kian retorted. “I'm very definitely saying 'no, don't you dare'.”

“Tease.” Mark murmured. “Come on. I bet I could finger you up here and nobody would ever know.”

“I bet you could too.” Kian laughed. “When we get home.”

“What if I just want to grab your arse?”

“You always want to grab my arse.”

“I know.” The arm over his shoulders slid lower, wriggling down between his back and the seat. Fingers traced the top of his jeans, awkward in the tight space. “Can I grab your arse?”

“You can.” Kian decided. He affected a put-upon sigh, got a cheeky grin back. Then he felt fingers slide down under his belt, grabbing slightly as Mark worked his knuckles down the gap. Fingernails stroked his skin, tickling, and he wriggled against it. Not particularly aroused, just comfortable. Mark nudged him into another kiss.

“I want you.” Mark breathed. The hand slid lower, fingers tickling up his crack and making him shiver. “Let me finger you? Please.”

“Mark...” He bit his lip, eyes falling closed when he felt fingertips touch over his entrance. “Someone will see.”

“They won't...” Mark urged. “Just one finger. Get you all stretched, and then when we got home I can slide straight into you.” A kiss slid up his jaw, brushing over his ear. And fuck, that did sound nice. Kian took a deep breath, trying to focus despite the fact that he was hardening in his jeans.

“You're manipulating me.”

“I really am.” There was a soft chuckle against his ear. “You want me to stop?”

“No.” Kian admitted, opening his eyes again. Mark's pupils were dark, glinting in the multicoloured lightbulbs shining around them. They were at the top, still moving slowly while they loaded more people on. Probably had another couple of minutes until they reached the bottom, then maybe five more minutes while the ride turned properly. “I want you to take me home and fuck me."

“Can I spank you?”

“If you like.” He shivered slightly, felt lips touch his temple. Blinked when he felt a fingertip trace the edge, his muscles contracting against it. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Mark echoed. “Can I lick you out?”

“I'd... I'd really enjoy that.” He bit his lip, felt the finger press a little harder. Middle finger, if he was any judge. There was another soft laugh, growly and heavy with heat. “You're all about my arse tonight, aren't you?”

“I'm always about your arse.” Mark whispered. “And your cock, and your lips, and your fingers, and your tongue.” The finger pressed a little harder in emphasis, just nudging in. “You're supposed to get all... settled, aren't you? When you've been together eleven years? But I want you just as much as ever...”

“Me too.” Kian croaked, feeling that thick fucking finger start to screw in. He jerked, biting back a moan. The wheel was starting to lower them now. They were halfway down. “I never thought I could want you more, but every day, I...” He looked up at Mark, trying to ignore the wriggling of the finger, even though it was twisting deeper now, Mark's hand almost pressed flat to his arse. “We'll be fine, once things end?”

“Of course we will.” Mark shrugged, his hand shifting as he did. Kian hissed, looking away to get a bit of focus. “Never even considered it.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“No.” The finger started to move, swirling slightly to stretch him, crooking a little. “I've known you more than half my life. I can't see it being a temporary thing.”

“You were in Westlife half your life.” Kian pointed out.

“Yeah, but that's not...” He saw Mark's face screw up in concentration, felt him shift and then...

“Fuck!” He gasped, listening to Mark giggle in time to the roll of pleasure that jolted through him. “Fucking hell...” He bit his lip, trying not to cry out at the touch on his prostate. “Mark...”

“Shhh...” Mark whispered. “We're just two lads on a ferris wheel.” Kian laughed, feeling like he was in a porn parody of a spy movie. “Anyway, no. You're mine. I'm certainly yours. No problems. We might see each other a bit less, if we're doing different things, but that's fine. Maybe we'll get a taste of what it's been like for Shane and Nicky all these years.”

“True, yeah.” Kian nodded. The finger flicked slightly, rocking back and forth. “That's...” He swallowed hard. “That's really good.”

“I know.” Mark stated idly. Kian shook his head, feeling his whole face screw up when the touch twisted, everything contracting when another finger began to stroke the rim. “Now act casual, because we're about to go past the operator lad.”

“Yep.” The finger didn't stop moving, not even as they rode past the man leaning against the control panel. Kian bit his lip, trying to figure out how to keep his face remotely straight. He wasn't uncontrollably loud in bed, not usually, but all of a sudden he wanted to cry out, scream Mark's name. Lips brushed his cheek again as they started to rise slowly, the finger moving faster. “Jesus.” He gasped, trying not to throw his head back too conspicuously against the electric pressure of that touch. His boyfriend laughed, a tongue tickling into his ear.

“Two fingers?”

“No...” Kian managed. “No. Too much.” He gulped back a cry when the finger touched to his prostate again, massaging slowly. “Shit.. you're so good at that.”

“Just practice.” Mark's voice was humble, but his face was cheeky. “Also the part where I love your arse.” They were coming closer to the top now, the carnival spreading out below them. “Do you think you can come? Just from this?”

“I doubt it.” Kian snorted. “I'm not eighteen any more. Fuck...” The finger was pressing harder now. Grinding against him. He doubted the validity of his own words now, feeling how hard he was. Everything felt constricted, too tight, too full. He leaned into Mark, trying to muffle his cry in the younger boy's neck. “Fuck...” He whimpered, feeling stubble scrape his lips. “Mark...”

“Kian...” Mark teased. “You're pitching a tent.”

“I know.” He admitted. Looked down. Let out a broken giggle around the feeling of that finger twisting suddenly deeper. “So are you.”

“Hard not to.” They were descending, the faces of people below getting far too visible for comfort. “I'm going to fuck you ragged when we get home.”

“I want you to do that now.” Kian groaned. “God...”

“Casual.” Mark murmured. “Almost at the bottom.”

“You're already at the bottom.” Kian joked, then hissed, jerked in his seat. “God... I'm... I'm gonna start leaking through my jeans in a second...” He shifted, tried to angle the intrusion somewhere less... pressing. It didn't work, though. Mark twisted, shoved hard, then grabbed his arse tight, closing the cheeks around the finger and making it even tighter. A whimper broke free from his lips.

They went past the operator again, Kian turning his burning face fixedly ahead, feeling one eye start twitch under the pressure of trying to hold still with that finger rubbing over him hard.

“Fuck.” He gasped as they rose, the carriage rocking to the rhythm of Mark's hand. His elbow was moving it, jolting the seat sickeningly while fingers stabbed in and out. “Marky... too...” His eye started to twitch again, then both, fluttering uncontrollably while he tried to focus past the idea that he could feel every whorl, every contour of Mark's fingerprints against his walls. His hand gripped the arm of the seat, the other closing hard on his boyfriend's thigh. Felt his passage ripple, the contraction going straight down through his balls, up through his cock. The next noise he made was a whine. Mark sucked it away, capturing his lips in a surprisingly chaste kiss.

“Shh.” He whispered. “People will hear you.”

“So stop... Ah!” He gasped. “Fuck. Oh shit.” He adjusted his legs, heard Mark moan against his ear.

“So hot.” He whispered. “You feel so good.”

“Baby...” His head went back without him telling to, and he was just glad Mark had given him that neckrub earlier. As it was, his shoulder twinged. He heard a low, heavy laugh. “I'm going to come, if you keep doing that.”

“I thought you weren't eighteen any more?” He rolled his eyes at the low snicker, still able to do that despite the fact that his hips were starting to undulate slowly into Mark's hand.

“I'm not. I'm thirty-bloody-one and I'm about to come in my pants.” Mark's free hand slid up his thigh. “Please...” He closed his eyes, just because he suspected his face was turning inside out from the sheer determination involved in not driving back onto that finger, swinging his leg across Mark's lap and sitting on his cock.

“Look at me.” Mark breathed, his voice low and meaningful. Kian did, forcing his eyes open. Caught a look of heavy, blue want that shivered up the back of his spine.

“Ah...”

“Keep looking.” Mark whispered. “We're going back down. Then we're going to go back up again, and when we get to the top, I want you to come.”

“I can't... I...” God, climbing off with a sticky stain down his jeans, trying to bite back his cries in the moment. He couldn't do it. Couldn't bloody...

“You can. You will.” He was kissed, then, a gentle caress, a tongue sliding over his bottom lip and in. He panted into that mouth, felt hot breath fill his own. The finger twisted deeper, then pulled back, finding the right spot. “Gonna make you come.” He murmured. “Ready?”

“No...” Kian gasped. “They'll know.”

A jacket landed over his lap a second later. Mark's. He felt the heavy pressure of draping material on him. They slid past the operator, started to go up for the last time. A second later they were out of sight. Mark's hand slid under the jacket, wrapped around him, grinding rough fabric into the bulge he was trying to focus away from.

“Fuck.” Buried his face in Mark's neck again. Felt a kiss nuzzle his ear. The hand closed down, squeezing, touching slowly without moving. Thumb and forefinger found the head, pinching slowly then rubbing. Kian bit his cry back. It was rising in him, swelling in the constricted space of his jeans, Mark's finger stroking him neatly, a fingernail scraping slightly and driving between pleasure and pain. Pinching. “Yes...” He gasped, so close. Mark chuckled, tongue sliding around the shell of his ear.

“Not yet.” He whispered. Kian groaned, feeling liquid need pool, then corkscrew. His eyelids fluttered again, so he closed them, lips sucking in the skin of Mark's throat, trying not to leave a mark but needing to distract himself from the fact that Mark was yanking his cheeks closed, driving deep, finding his prostate. “Almost...”

“Mark...”

“Ki...” Mark bit his ear. Hard. Nibbled it. A cry stumbled over his lips, choked out into Mark's throat. “Any second.”

“Uh...” He slid his fingers into Mark's hair, tried to ground himself. “So... right...”

“Right there?” Mark murmured, pressing harder. “Right there?”

“Fuck... ah...” His arm curled around Mark's shoulder. Looked over it, at the flashing lights, the people moving around below with no idea. Not even looking up. Not even noticing that Mark was squeezing, tugging at the same rhythm as the finger in his arse. Nibbling his ear, sending a thousand pinpricks of sensation everywhere while Kian wrapped himself in strong arms, in the ultimate familiar smell of the man he'd loved more than half his life. Felt the idea shudder through him, harder and deeper than the physical pleasure. Felt everything hit, penetrate him. Shudder through and push him apart as they crested the top of the wheel.

“Now.” Mark growled. “Now. Come for me. Come in your pants, baby...”

“Yes...!” He gasped, clinging tighter, biting his lip and burying the noise in his lover's throat, feeling the hot ripple of his orgasm overtaking him, the blinding pressure, and then the overwhelming ecstasy of Mark kissing him through it, sealing over his panting mouth and pressing with both hands while Kian filled his boxers, whimpering and feeling higher than the wheel could possibly rise, lights blinking harder behind his eyes than the midway below.

Mark pulled out. The hand on his crotch sliding away, other one coming up to rest on his shoulder, a finger wiping surreptitiously on his underwear on the way out. The jacket stayed over his lap, and he tried desperately to slow his breathing as they sunk down, wondering just how shagged he looked.

They stopped halfway down so the first people could get off, the carriage swinging at the jolt. He looked up at Mark, giggling stupidly when he got a fond, hungry smile.

“Well.”

“Indeed.” Mark agreed, then laughed, squeezing his shoulder. “Good stuff.”

“Yes.” He tried to steady himself. They moved down a little lower. “I don't know if I can stand up to get off this thing.”

“Well, the other option is slipping the guy a fifty and staying here all night.” Mark suggested, yanking his shirt out of his belt to cover the pretty delicious bulge in his jeans. “But I don't know if we can get away with me sticking my tongue in your arse.”

“Might be a bit obvious.” Kian agreed. “And then when you fuck me...”

“Mmm... not easy to hide.” The operator grabbed the bar, lifting it, and Mark stood up, reaching out a hand. Kian took it, pulling himself up and trying not to look too obvious about draping Mark's jacket over one arm to cover the stain starting to bleed through his jeans. Mark retrieved the bucket of candy floss and his crazy straw from the storage shelf near the queue.

They crossed away from the lights, started to head back towards the car-park. The fingers in his gripped tighter, a thumb stroking over the back of his hand. Kian looked up, feeling sweet, fond belonging settle in his stomach, the uncomfortable stickiness of his cum-soaked boxers starting to chafe.

“Didn't you want to stay for the fireworks?”

“No.” Mark laughed, turning to smile at him. “I've got you.”

 


End file.
